What She Needed
by Oratorio
Summary: Taelin Lavellan was furious. Furious and heartbroken. Unexpectedly dumped by the man she loves, she seeks out the company of a friend for something a bit more practical than sympathy. Unfortunately Iron Bull isn't at his usual spot in the tavern. Instead, she finds a young quartermaster with a helpless crush. It works out surprisingly well.


Taelin Lavellan was furious.

In fact, she couldn't remember ever having been this furious in her life. Things were not improved when she threw open the door to the tavern and found it almost deserted.

"Where's Bull?" she demanded loudly to nobody in particular.

The few patrons in the bar shuffled around nervously, not wanting to upset their leader. She was already known for her temper, and it was clear that the mood she was in now was particularly dark.

"Um, Inquisitor, he's not been here all day," a voice spoke up hesitantly. "Sorry."

Taelin wanted to scream. In fact, she wanted to scream and cry and burn the whole tavern to the ground, preferably with a certain elven mage within it.

_Harden your heart to a sharp point_, he had said when she had tried to argue with him. _Use it against our enemies._

Well, she didn't want to use it against her enemies. She had her spirit blade for that. She wanted to be angry at him, damn it, and he wouldn't even let her do that. He just stood there, all calm and collected, and spoke to her in that damned _sorrowful _voice that made her want to hit him.

Slowly, she became aware that everyone in the tavern – all four of them – were staring at her as she stood in the doorway, pale and shaking.

"Is there anything we can help with, Your Worship?"

Taelin glanced over at the blond man who had spoken, recognising him as her requisitions officer. Morris, wasn't it?

She shook her head. The Iron Bull was probably the only person in Skyhold who she wanted to see right now. He would understand. He wouldn't give her awkward sympathy, useless platitudes, or want to take the pain away. What she sought from him was something entirely different.

At first, Taelin had been shocked when Bull had spoken so candidly about sex within the Qun. His honesty and laid back approach had intrigued her. Within her clan, sex was taken very seriously and often shared only by bondmates – those promised to each other as life partners. The thought of it being used as a form of stress relief made her blush and giggle, but had also given her a hot rush. Taelin may have taken few lovers in her thirty-five years, but she enjoyed sex and would have propositioned Bull there and then had her heart not already begun singing for Solas.

Solas, who had been loving and attentive, whose gentle fingers had played a sensuous tune. She had never been loved like that before, as if she was the sun at the centre of his universe. She had never expected to find someone like him or to fall so deeply, and even less had she expected him to break her heart the way he had earlier that evening.

_I'm sorry._

"Can I buy you a drink, Inquisitor?" Morris was talking again, stumbling slightly over the words. "You look like you need one."

Taelin regarded him solemnly. The man had always been shy around her, blushing and stuttering whenever she asked him questions about their supplies. A few ales seemed to have calmed his nerves and he smiled at her and raised his glass in invitation. Well, she could think of worse company. He was pleasant enough, for a shem, and she could use a drink in the absence of her original plan.

"Something strong," she instructed Cabot the bartender. The mug he handed over was large and foaming, and smelled slightly sulphuric.

The alcohol burned as it slid down her throat, a trail of fire which sat in her stomach like acid. She hacked a cough into her hand and grimaced, tears springing to her eyes.

Cabot grinned over at her. "Dwarven special, Inquisitor."

It was helping, Taelin thought, as she took another large swig. Enough of this and perhaps it would force her to forget the look on Solas' face as he backed away from her, the tingle of her lips and the taste of his kiss enduring even as she was left alone.

Morris was talking to her, she realised, inane chatter about anti-venom supplies and upgrades to the herb garden. She sighed.

"Look, Morris, I'm not in the mood for work right now," she said, her voice sharp. "So if that's really all you have to talk about I suggest you shut up."

The young man looked wounded, and she instantly regretted her words. She could do without something else to feel bad about right now.

She rested her hand on his forearm, feeling him flinch beneath her palm. "I'm sorry. That was unfair. I've had a bad day, just ignore me."

"With respect, you're quite hard to ignore, Inquisitor," he said, his voice shaky. The catch she heard there made her raise her eyebrows and search his face carefully.

No Bull, she thought, but perhaps her quest was not fruitless after all.

Taelin abruptly stood up, the chair clattering to the ground behind her. "Come with me," she told Morris, turning and walking out of the tavern without a backward look.

She felt numerous pairs of eyes on her as she walked through the main hall, head held determinedly high. Solas' room in the rotunda was hardly private and she had no doubt that by now, the gossip of their fractured relationship had spread throughout the Keep. She had already heard people wondering aloud about the loss of her vallaslin. She knew, also, that Morris was just behind her and that the scandalmongers would have a field day when they saw him follow her to her quarters. Perhaps Solas would hear of it. She found she did not care in the slightest.

As the door to the hall closed behind him, she heard Morris's footsteps falter on the stone steps which led to her private room.

"Inquisitor?"

He was standing in the stairwell below her, confusion and uncertainty written plainly across his face. She wondered suddenly if this had been such a good idea. Perhaps she had misread him - after all it wouldn't be the first time she had made such a mistake.

She descended the stairs until she was able to look him in the eye.

"Ser Morris," she said carefully, "I find myself in need of company to distract me from my thoughts. If I have misjudged, I apologise. I will not be upset if you prefer to leave."

"I… I didn't think you were in the mood to talk," Morris said.

Taelin huffed out a laugh. It was clear that she would need to spell out her intentions more openly.

"If I wanted to talk, Ser Morris, I would have remained in the tavern. That is not what I have in mind."

"But… oh," the young man almost squeaked, his face flushing a fetching shade of pink as he understood her meaning. "Um, er… I…"

Taelin shook her head. "If you don't want to, I understand. It was presumptuous of me. I apologise for making you uncomfortable."

She turned on her heel and fled to her room, cursing herself inwardly for her clumsy attempt to seduce the man. She had gone to the tavern to seek out a confident, experienced lover for a casual encounter, and had instead ended up approaching someone who was the clear polar opposite.

"Fenedhis," she spat as she paced across her room, a string of elven curses following the invective. She had behaved like an idiot today. It was unforgivable that others should be pulled into her hurt and anger, that she should make such errors when she was meant to be the Leader of the Inquisition.

"Inquisitor Lavellan?"

Ser Morris stood in the doorway of her room, pale and trembling but with a set to his jaw that she had not seen before. She paused, her breath catching as she watched him walk purposefully over to her.

"I don't know why you would choose me," he said, "but I, I…"

Her gaze softened as she waited for his next words. She needed him to say them, to know that he wanted to be here, that he understood what this was.

He swallowed hard, looked at the floor. "You are so beautiful, Inquisitor. Since the first time I saw you, I have dreamed of you noticing me. If this is a chance to have just one moment with you, I would take it."

_You are so beautiful._

Her stomach clenched at the words, one of the last things Solas had said to her before he had walked away. She felt the dwarven ale bubble in her guts and turned away quickly, her hand over her mouth.

Morris's false confidence evaporated. "Inquisitor? Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she said quickly, taking a deep breath and willing her stomach to settle. "No. It was just hard to hear that. I don't… I don't feel very beautiful right now."

She felt the man's body heat as he walked up behind her, felt him touch her shoulder tentatively.

"You should," he murmured into her ear, his breath gusting over the sensitive tip and making her shiver. Turning to face him, she was stunned by the intensity in his eyes, the look of complete disbelief that this was actually happening. Her chest tightened as she realised the power she had over him at this moment.

Before she could have any second thoughts, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned up to press her lips against his, drinking in his slight gasp of surprise. He tensed at her touch before his mouth began to move against hers, hesitant and awkward.

She broke away briefly, touched his cheek. "Relax," she whispered, before kissing him again, running her hands down his back and feeling his muscles bunch and loosen under her palms. The kiss deepened, his arms going around her waist as she pressed their bodies together, feeling his arousal hot against her hip. Morris moaned into her mouth as she rubbed herself against him, his breath stuttering and his skin flushed and damp.

"I want you to fuck me, Morris," she whispered into his ear, smirking as the young man groaned and shuddered. "I want to feel you inside me. I want you to make me come until I can't see straight."

"I…" Morris was almost incoherent as she palmed him through his trousers. "Inquisitor. _Show me."_

Taelin briefly wondered if he had ever been to bed with a woman, before pushing the thought to one side and beginning to unlace her tunic. She watched him watching her, his chest rising and falling with the huge gulps of air he was taking, clearly on the verge of losing control. It was obvious how much he desired her and perhaps, she thought, that had been what she had been seeking all along. Perhaps she needed to feel truly wanted by someone, even if it wasn't the man she loved.

Morris's eyes widened as she stepped out of her smalls and stood before him completely and unashamedly nude. His cheeks were a deep pink and he was biting on his lower lip as he dragged his gaze over her body. Taelin felt heat pooling between her thighs as she relished his expression of utter reverence. This was possibly the first time she had ever held so much control with a partner, and she found that she liked it.

"Take your clothes off," she ordered, and he hurriedly began to fumble with the buckles of his tunic. He was trying to remove everything at once, and Taelin bit her cheek to hide her smile as he tripped over the undone legs of his trousers while pulling desperately at one of his boots.

"Slow down, Morris. I'm not going anywhere."

"Sorry… sorry," he said as he picked himself up from the floor bashfully. "I must look like such a fool to you."

She threaded her fingers through his hair. "A lovely fool," she said with a smile, "one who flatters me with his enthusiasm."

Morris blushed deeper as Taelin led him over to the bed so that even the pale, freckled skin of his chest was starting to become flushed and rosy. She sat on the edge of the divan, pulling him to stand between her knees and looping her fingers in the waistband of his smalls, the only item of clothing that remained.

He screwed his eyes shut as she stripped the underclothes from him, his hands curling into fists so tight that his fingernails bit into his palms. His entire body jerked as she ran one finger along the length of him, her breath hot against his stomach as she leaned forward to take him into her mouth.

The noise that he made then was unlike anything she had heard from a human. It sounded all at once like pain, need and desperation. She didn't let up – lavishing her full attention on him with lips and tongue, drawing more wails and whimpers from the man rocking and shaking in front of her. She rested one hand on his hip in an effort to keep him still.

"Oh, Inquisitor, I…" he hissed, trying to pull away. She tightened her grip as she felt his cock twitch and pulse and then he was coming, gasping and sobbing as she continued to gently pull him between her lips.

She wiped her mouth and looked up at him, pleased that she had managed to reduce him to a quivering mess within minutes of touching him. She pressed a kiss to his thigh and smiled as words spilled out of him, hoarse and jumbled exclamations of wonderment.

Laying back on the bed, Taelin guided him over her with soft whispers of where she liked to be touched and how. He was a quick study, she thought, as his fingertips tugged gently at a nipple, his mouth covering her other breast and laving her skin with his tongue. She arched her back as he trailed kisses along her belly before burying his face between her legs.

Morris was only the second man to do this to her, and she shook her head at the unfamiliar tickle of his hair against her thighs. He ran his tongue over her artlessly at first, his touch enthusiastic but clumsy. She wriggled beneath him, directing his movements with her body and the sounds she made. Her skin began to fizz with the sensations he was pulling from her, in part from the feeling of his tongue on her clitoris and also from the realisation that he would do anything she asked of him, here in this moment. She was so wonderfully, completely in charge of the situation and of this pliable and eager young man who was bombarding her with such intense affection. It was almost enough by itself to send her over the edge.

She said his name and he exhaled a hot breath which tingled against the wetness of her core and made her squirm and whine. Slowly, he pushed one trembling finger inside her as he continued to press his tongue against her most sensitive spot. She moaned as she felt the familiar ache of impending climax begin to build in the centre of her, her nerve endings singing with every touch.

"Wait…" she said breathlessly. "I want you inside me when I come."

Morris pulled back, gazing up at her from between her thighs with a dazed expression. Taelin sat up quickly, taking his arm and steering him to lie on the blankets. He moved silently, speechless.

She straddled him confidently, running her fingers down his chest. He was no fighter, not as toned as her former lover had been, but she relished the differences in them. She had never been with a shemlen before, never seen a human male unclothed, and she drank in the sight of him lying underneath her as if he was an exotic treasure.

She ground her hips against him and he moaned as his cock slid along her slit. Her eyes darkened with desire as she watched him struggle to contain his need for her.

"Are you ready?" she murmured throatily.

"Please," Morris said, his voice strained and desperate.

Taelin sank down on to him, her movements deliberate and slow, feeling him slide into her inch by inch as she focused intently on his reactions. His face seemed to crumple in on itself as he entered her, his heels drumming against the mattress, one hand on the curve of her waist and the other curled around the bed sheets, twisting them in his fingers. She took him deep within her and then stilled, her muscles clenching and adjusting to his length.

He felt good and she told him so, making him shudder beneath her. After what felt like an age she began to move, undulating her body over him as he thrust up into her. It took some minutes to find a rhythm, but when they did, bodies moving in a harmonious dance, she felt again the prickle of her orgasm drawing closer.

"Touch me," she said breathlessly, grabbing his wrist and dragging it across to where their bodies were joined. He pressed his fingers against her clitoris, measuring her reactions and adjusting the pressure until she crested the wave, her body tightening and rippling around him as she cried out her climax. The feeling of her body's pleasure was too much for Ser Morris, and he tipped over into his own peak, cursing and burying his head in her chest as he spilled himself inside her.

They held each other for some minutes, her arms around his neck, his face against her shoulder. Then, very gently, she pressed a kiss upon his forehead before rolling away and collapsing on the bed beside him.

"Thank you," she said, entangling her fingers with his and squeezing his hand.

He looked over at her, a mixture of emotions playing over his face.

"I should be the one thanking you," he said softly, "because that was everything I could ever have dreamed of."

She opened her mouth to speak, a wave of guilt crashing through her, but Morris interrupted her.

"No, wait," he said, a shy smile on his face. "I understand. It's what you needed right now, but tomorrow you might not need it any more. Don't feel bad. I don't regret a thing."

Taelin drew him to her, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

"I won't ever forget this, Ser Morris," she said, nestling into his side and tracing circles on his bare chest with her fingernail.

"Me either," he said with a soft sigh, stroking her hair as he waited for her to fall asleep.


End file.
